Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Run Dem , by - Foxy Brown. Release date: 31.12.2000
Song language: English
Run Dem |
| Whoa |
| A wha de bloodclaat do dem fool deh |
| Who the fuck told bitches they could do what I do |
| And all of a sudden all y’all bitches got accents too |
| Bad gyal, bitches can’t do the shit that I do |
| Sometime a gal fi get kuff (hoo hoo hoo hoo) |
| Whoa, I tell a motherfucker this |
| Some niggas nowadays mood’s worse than a bitch |
| And as for this chick, me love bum flick on bad man dick so |
| Got the pussy I got the lie fo' |
| I’m a grown ass bitch with my own ass shit |
| Now hear dis, una wan' chat? |
| Me a go bust una secret |
| Ya a big battyman, ya love look man bottom |
| Pussy watchman, you a trace gyal pattern |
| Fuck who, niggas wish they could fuck me |
| Like they never seen a hot gal act like we |
| Big bumboclaat star, push hot car |
| Big hood, me love back way all day |
| And the way my man fuck, can’t even stand up |
| And when he gets stiff it cum like ten dicks |
| Take it through my hole right through my appendix |
| I got a message; |
| why dont y’all motherfuckers sit on this? |
| From a puss hole, dis man we shot dem |
| If a fass hole fi dead man we back dem |
| If a gun shot fi bust man we clap dem |
| An if a riddim fi ride man we rock dem |
| Out of all the broads in the game, Fox is the baddest |
| Picture me fuckin with a nigga half my status |
| Bad gal bust big gun and no wan' see me buck it |
| Move ya bumba hole, bwoy gwon mind ya jacket |
| How dare y’all motherfuckers even spit my name |
| Cool now man, 'fore I have you X’d out the game |
| And tell dem all your gang pussy like sugar cane |
| And buck yat take beer owed by queer, oh dem where dat? |
| Bet you wish you lucked up, and got a quick nut |
| I wouldn’t fuck you if I was horny, or pissy-ass drunk |
| Lucky I don’t fuck around and get you stuck up |
| Waitin outside your studio, collect your dub bucks |
| Bitch — fuck around and get that nigga gun buck |
| Outside and fully loaded with the gun stashed up |
| In front of cactus, chrome fo'-fifth |
| And a bag of full clip for niggas with loose lip — FIYAH |
| How many times I got to let y’all bitches know I’m |
| One of a kind, can’t fuck with mines |
| See when Fox in the place, pure hotness a gwan |
| When I bust wine we na watch ya face, gwan |
| Ya too fraud, sound ridiculous |
| I’m the only Trini bitch that can kick yard shit, FIYAH |
| What you know about skin out and bruck out |
| Like a bad gyal bunny hot style, pop pure style |
| Look at this wannabe’s comin around me |
| Sick of these fake G’s tryin to clown me |
| Why these niggas be tryin to drown me |
| I’m tellin you fools no one can bound me |